


The Sunsets Lovely Out Here

by circusdad



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Attempted Suicide, Bernie Taupin is a Good Friend, Bulimia, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, M/M, john reid is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28892682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circusdad/pseuds/circusdad
Summary: It hit Elton right in his insecurities.He'd never be happy the way he was, so why even try?
Relationships: Elton John & Bernie Taupin, Elton John/John Reid
Kudos: 2





	The Sunsets Lovely Out Here

Elton's skin was burning hot. Sweat and goosebumps coated his flesh and the never ending sense of being watched weighed on his brain. John grimaced. Elton's anger flaired.

"Elton," John said. When he got no reaction, he rolled his eyes, sneering. His partner was coked out, most definitely drunk as well. He sure stank of it.

His head snapped around the room, blue eyes never resting long enough in one place to really see anything. John's voice sounded like muffled wind to him, why bother to decipher it?

Until, "God damnit, Elton, would you pay attention for once," John said, just loud enough to snap the pianist from his daze.

"I- What," he said quickly.

"Look at you," John sneered. "Piggin' away at yer dessert while I try to be at least a little bit responsible! We have a record to release, Elton, and a time limit put on it. Why aren't you doing your job and getting in the studio we're paying for?"

"‘We're’," Elton chuckled out. "That I'm paying for. Just like your plate of food infront of you, just like the roof you live under, just like the lifestyle you're living!" He banged his fist on the table, drawing attention to the pair. "Just. Like. Everything! Why don't you do _your_ fucking job, eh? Sell my fucking records!" Eltons frown took up his whole face, mouth twitching, eyes widening behind his oversized, overly flashy glasses. His body was shaking, breath shallow as he stared daggers into his lover. "Treat me like more than your bank account," he said quieter, softer, angry demeanor dropping.

"You don't deserve anything more then that," John spat, pushing his plate away and standing from his seat. "Sing your songs or sit here and eat the whole restaurant. I'm going out," he said vaugely; he knew it would hit Elton right in his insecurities. The singers face reddened, and he chewed on his thumbnail.

"Where are you going?"

John began to walk away, hearing a frantic, 'wait' and scrambling as Elton rushed to follow him.

"John, please!" A rushed, 'I'll get the bill later', and John had closed the taxi door, just in time for Elton to bump into it. He slapped on the window a few times, frowning.

Deciding to add insult to injury, Reid rolled the window down, spitting out a cruel, "You barely squeeze into your stage outfits as it is, a couple more pounds and you won't fit at all."

Elton wasn't overweight. In fact, he was alarmingly skinny. When hugged (not that many cared to hug him, and the ones that did, he flinched away from. Damn you, John Reid) his ribs could be felt. But the manager wasn't worried about that, he was only aiming to shatter the singers ego. As the taxi drove away, Elton stared pathetically at it, hoping- wishing- John would at least glance back at him. But he didn't, and Elton was left feeling humiliated, heartbroken, and angry.

When he got home he beelined for the bathroom. Harshly, he fell to his knees, sticking a finger down his throat. It took a couple tries, but eventually he'd expelled his stomach into the toilet. He kept going until he couldn't anymore- acid burning his throat and lips. 

He collapsed on the floor next to the toilet, letting out a sob, followed by a a scream of, "Fuck!" from the top of his lungs.

"You fucking.. Drag," he mumbled, curling into his coat as he cried to himself on the cold floor and his dark bathroom. He felt hopeless. John was probably off at some club, shagging a baby faced boy with a round arse, having the time of his life. John didn't care that he himself partook in infidelity or drugs or drinking, it only mattered if _Elton_ did. Granted, he'd never cheated (that he could remember), but even when he took even a sip of whiskey or a half a line of powder, he was the villian. 

The thought made his anger seeth, as well as the dark pull of depression. He would never be happy like this. He missed the early days, when it was just him, Dick, Ray and.. Bernie. Oh, Bernie he hadn't seen in weeks. He was supposed to stop by yesterday, but cancelled last-minute.

Dragging himself to his feet, he grabbed the small metal tin from the mirror cabinet, shutting it after.

He paused. He took in the bags under his eyes, the thinning of his hair, the bruises, the dimness of his before bright blue eyes.

The overall ugliness. God, no wonder John hated him.. No wonder Bernie left..

Tapping out a thick line, he snorted it off the marble sink, blinking hard.

"What does it matter," he said to himself, grabbing a bottle of vodka and pills, emptying out all thirty capsules, shoving them into his mouth lazily, chasing them with the alcohol. He grabbed another bottle- thirty more, down the hatch. More vodka.

He felt it almost immediately. His vision went in and out, and he stumbled out the bathroom, making his way to the front garden. It was a peaceful place, his favorite of the house.

If he was going to die, he sure as hell was going to do it properly- peacefully. Not pent up in a house he didn't want, one he only bought because his arsehole boyfriend wanted it.

No, he would die when he wanted. Where he was at peace. His own personal heaven.

He didn't notice when it started to rain. Soaking his orange locks and overly flaunty clothes. It was cold, but he didn't notice. His ears rang painfully, the rain sounding like breath against a microphone.

The sun was setting.

It was beautiful.

Just the way he wanted it.

"-lton! Elton, can you hear me!?"

The words were muffled. Who was talking? John? Had John come to save him- had he changed his mind?

"John?" He managed to slur out the question, his head throbbing with the noise.

"Elton, it's me- it's Bernie, man.. What happened? Why are you out here, it's freezing?"

With a sad chuckle, Elton smiled, tears burning at his eyes as he looked up at the colourful sky. Beautiful hues of red, purples and blues, all swirled together to make something.. magnificent. He would miss this. The sunset. It was always his favorite time of day. Cries fell down his cheeks, and he let out a mix of a sob and laugh.

"Im dying, Bernie. And the sunset's lovely."

"..What? Elton, what do you mean? What did you take?"

"Dunno. Pills, lots of 'em. This is how I want to die. In the garden. With the sky... With you."

He heard Bernie's frantic questioningly, fading to a gentle white noise as he slipped into utter blackness. Utter bliss.

He woke with a start, shooting up on his hospital bed.

And of course, he'd survived. There was never an easy way out for him. But..

This time, instead of John by his bedside, spewing hateful slurs or spiteful insults, reminding him of just how selfish his attempt at his own life was, there was Bernie. Wide eyed Bernie, overjoyed at seeing his best friend alive and well. Crying with relief.

And maybe that was okay. He didn't need an arsehole such as John.

Now it was just the two old friends.

Like the good old days.


End file.
